


An Ill Wind Comes Arising

by for_t2



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, F/F, Post-Canon, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_t2/pseuds/for_t2
Summary: The apocalypse isn't what she thought it would be





	An Ill Wind Comes Arising

You’d think the apocalypse – the big one, the one that gets us – would be impressive. Hellfire, damnation, lots of big bloodthirsty demons. Terrifying yet impressive. But this… 

I lean back against the creaky porch steps. Take the last swig of my way-too-warm and not nearly strong enough beer. The can empty, I crunch it into a ball and toss it away. Then watch as it bounces down the empty San Francisco street, pockmarked with years of holes and erosion. It comes to halt just in front of the ocean. Weird how it happened. The tides just got a little deeper. A couple more floods every year. Then they just never left. Summer stayed too. Got a little longer, little hotter. Every damn year. 

Very apocalypsy. 

“Apocalyptic.” 

Shit. 

“Buffy?” That’s the first word she’s spoken to me all day. 

“The word’s apocalyptic.” 

The first word she’s spoken in several days. “Learn my English from the best, B.” 

She doesn’t answer. Just keeps her eyes glued to the horizon, far far darker than they have any right to be. 

“Sides, not like there’s anyone left to read my poetic smut, so, you know.” I shuffle a little closer to her, drop my voice little. “Unless you’d like to help me practice my English?” 

No reaction. Not even a disapproving sigh. Great. 

It’s not fucking easy being the last two of San Fran’s finest. The city’s falling apart, the people left here have nowhere else to go, and, well, slayers don’t get paid vacation during the apocalypse. 

“Buffy,” I start, “you need to talk to me.” 

She doesn’t.

“It’s not fucking healthy, B. You’re driving me nuts. Just fucking talk to me. Please.” It’s not like we have anyone else to talk to anymore. “I need to hear your voice.” 

She finally looks at me. 

“Usually doesn’t end well when I start talking to myself.” 

“Faith.” She looks as if she’s forgotten how to cry. Can’t blame her. “I—” 

A gust of wind hits us, leaving us both coughing like hell. 

Once we recover, Buffy stands up. “We should get going.” 

Vamps don’t need to worry about smog. 

“Yeah.” 

She picks up her weapons. Starts marching towards the incoming cloud of dust, pollution and darkness.

“Hey, Buffy?” 

She stops. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

The smallest of smiles appears on her face before she walks off to patrol. It’s beautiful. It’s enough. I grab my weapons and jump after her. She’s still in this. We’re still in this.


End file.
